“Well, I don’t see what there _is_ to be done,” he said, gloomily. “It’s no good my making suggestions, if you have some frivolous objection to all of them.” “My idea,” said Webster, “would be something which did not involve my own personal and active co-operation, sir. If it is all the same to you, I should prefer to limit my assistance to advice and sympathy. I am anxious to help, but I am a man of regular habits, which I do not wish to disturb. Did you ever read ‘Footpaths of Fate,’ in the Nosegay series, sir? I’ve only just remembered it, and it contains the most helpful suggestion of the lot. There had been a misunderstanding between the heroine and the hero—their names have slipped my mind, though I fancy his was Cyril—and she had told him to hop it....” “To what?” “To leave her for ever, sir. And what do you think he did?” “How the deuce do I know?” “He kidnapped her little brother, sir, to whom she was devoted, kept him hidden for a bit, and then returned him, and in her gratitude all was forgotten and forgiven, and never....” “I know. Never had the bells of the old village church....” “Rung out a blither peal. Exactly, sir. Well, there, if you will allow me to say so, you are, sir! You need seek no further for a plan of action.” “Miss Bennett hasn’t got a little brother.” “No, sir. But she has a dog, and is greatly attached to it.” Sam stared. From the expression on his face it was evident that Webster imagined himself to have made a suggestion of exceptional intelligence. It struck Sam as the silliest he had ever heard. “You mean I ought to steal her dog?” “Precisely, sir.” “But, good heavens! Have you seen that dog?” “The one to which I allude is a small brown animal with a fluffy tail.” “Yes, and a bark like a steam-siren, and, in addition to that, about eighty-five teeth, all sharper than razors. I couldn’t get within ten feet of that dog without its lifting the roof off, and, if I did, it would chew me into small pieces.” “I had anticipated that difficulty, sir. In ‘Footpaths of Fate’ there was a nurse who assisted the hero by drugging the child.” “By Jove!” said Sam, impressed. “He rewarded her,” said Webster, allowing his gaze to stray nonchalantly over the countryside, “liberally, very liberally.” “If you mean that you expect me to reward you if you drug the dog,” said Sam, “don’t worry. Let me bring this thing off, and you can have all I’ve got, and my cuff-links as well. Come now, this is really beginning to look like something. Speak to me more of this matter. Where do we go from here?” “I beg your pardon, sir?” “I mean, what’s the next step in the scheme? Oh, Lord!” Sam’s face fell. The light of hope died out of his eyes. “It’s all off! It can’t be done! How could I possibly get into the house? I take it that the little brute sleeps in the house?”